


You Say Get Over Here and Play a Video Game

by OffBrandLaCroix



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Author Abuses Commas, Banter, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, No Angst, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Sam Wilson is a Gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 11:51:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18992107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OffBrandLaCroix/pseuds/OffBrandLaCroix
Summary: Sam and Bucky play video games and fool around. That's it. That's the fic.





	You Say Get Over Here and Play a Video Game

**Author's Note:**

> This was definitely meant to be rated T but it had a mood of it's own. Whoops.

Bucky woke slowly these days: he became distantly aware of someone calling his name, invading a pleasant dream he’d been having, and he blinked himself into awareness. Content to lie under the covers a few minutes more, he began to stretch in place, grinning at the burn in his calves when he pulled just right. Another yell cut into his routine and he grumbled, definitely not loud enough to be heard behind the thick wooden door to their room, removing himself from their ridiculously luxurious -- thanks, Tony -- bedding and padding to the restroom.

He took a deep breath before he looked in the mirror, still in the habit of mentally preparing himself of the discomfort of seeing greasy, long hair and an inflamed patch where skin met metal. This time, like many times before, he let the breath out in a relieved woosh: his hair was still long but it was silky and smooth, only tussled from sleep. His arm was still metal but the area around it looked clean and only slightly darker than the skin of his shoulder. His blue eyes held life again and he couldn’t help but smile as he brushed his teeth, every so often looking back up to see himself again. 

There’d been a time where he feared he’d never have this again. Time spent running through thickets, crouching in muddy water and praying that he wouldn’t get another infection, time spent strapped to a chair and struggling to figure out why he couldn’t seem to forget blonde hair and righteous indignation. Even after he remembered again, and he did, mostly, remember, he’d been scared it’d be ripped away from him again. Sometimes he still saw the anger and hurt in Tony’s eyes, but those memories were slowly being replaced by Tony’s bright smiles when he showed Bucky some music he’d missed in the time he was missing himself. He was sure Pepper had something to do with this and had taken to sending her coffees when she was having a particularly bad day, something that usually ended with jokes about her leaving Tony for Bucky, and some playful possessiveness on Sam’s part.

“Bucky!” and speaking of Sam, he felt he’d better get to the kitchen before his partner exploded. Whatever it was, it was important enough to have him yelling and cooking, but not important enough to drag him out of bed. He pondered idly as he strolled down the long hallway, feeling not at all rushed and all the better for it. 

“Good morning,” he grinned as he wrapped his hands loosely around Sam’s waist. He let his head rest on the shorter man’s shoulder and watched grease from the pan popping. 

“It’s afternoon,” Sam grouched. He turned and pointed his spatula at him accusingly but it didn’t seem as effective when he was struggling to keep his lips in a frown. Bucky leaned down and kissed the corner of each side anyway. He pulled back and smirked when he saw the smile on Sam’s lips which quickly faded into a playful scowl as he noticed Bucky’s too-satisfied expression.

“Go sit down and I’ll bring you some food.”

“You, darlin’, will make an amazing housewife someday,” Bucky drawled. He ducked just out of the way of the spatula sent flying his way and laughed under his breath at the mutterings just barely audible over the sounds of plating and running water.

They ate in companionable silence, utensils clinking and feet tangled under the table. Bucky tickled Sam’s feet with his and laughed out loud when Sam pilfered his last piece of bacon, turning affectionate when he received half of it back. He could almost feel Sam vibrating with excitement when they finally finished their food and kissed him sweetly on the forehead as he took their dishes to the sink.

“What’re you so happy for?” he asked, wondering if this was going to end up with him on his back, breathing hard, having been thoroughly defeated in some new sparring game that’d been thought up in the haze of a caffeine-fueled mission. He was already thinking of all of the ways he could get back at Steve if needed and replacing all of his shirts with ones that actually fit was looking pretty good.

“That game we’ve been looking at came out!”

Bucky stared at him blankly. Sam sighed and got up to retrieve said game, mumbling “you’re lucky you’re pretty.” 

Bucky huffed indignantly but didn’t deny it. 

Sam returned with a brightly colored case featuring animated characters in cartoon cars, some of them holding lightsabers. Bucky let out squeal, an incredibly manly one, and swatted Sam on the arm when he snickered. 

“Get over here and let’s get set up. Grab the snacks.”

“Yes Master.” 

“That’s right, padawan, and I’m about to kick your dark side ass on Bespin Road.” 

Bucky snorted but obediently began pulling snacks down from the cabinets. Arms loaded and cheeks bulging with Oreos he hadn’t bothered to resist, he plopped down on one of the bean bags, spread their haul out in front of them, and snatched up a controller as Sam dutifully began opening packages for maximum snacking ease. Gamer den created, and God if Sam didn’t cringe every time Bucky called it that, Bucky finally leaned over to switch on the console and watched as the overly large -- again, thanks, Tony -- screen loaded up and the buzzing, clashing sounds of lightsaber fights filled the room. He glanced over at Sam who looked similarly entranced, half a cheese puff hanging from his mouth.  
He really shouldn’t be blamed for swiping it. 

Characters selected, of course Bucky would pick Anakin and he doesn’t know what it means that Sam chooses Padme, they begin the race. Elbows fly as the two try to cheat each other out of a wine. Bucky curses when Sam throws a bacta patch under him and he spirals out of control but gets him back by bumping him off track as they fly through the crowds. Too soon they’re on the final lap, neck and neck as they approach the finish line. At the last second Sam pulls ahead and their screens flash with a replay of him finishing in first. Bucky growls playfully but claps him on his back all the same.

“I think I deserve a reward for winning,” Sam announces proudly.

“What do you want?” Bucky smiles through his words in that shy, innocent-but-not way that he knows Sam loves. 

In retaliation he feels long fingers tangle in his hair, another hand coming to rest just above the junction where cool steel meets warm flesh, and a pair of plush lips pressed insistently to his. He surrenders wordlessly, one hand on the ground to keep them steady and the other snaking around a slim waist, loving the feel of tensed muscles beneath him. They stay like this for some time, steady breathing turning to shallow panting and desperate gasps. Bucky grabs Sam’s hand when it slips up his shirt though, holding it in place and grinning wickedly. 

“I don’t put out on the first race sweetheart.” 

Sam groans but nips at Bucky’s neck a final time and slides off of his lap. They start again, choosing the winding dessert and tall obstacles of Tatooine. 

“Loser starts stripping,” Bucky challenges and receives a predatory smile in return. 

They crash through the course, sending each other spinning out of control as they try desperately to navigate through tight tunnels on wide podracers. Bucky has stuck his tongue out in concentration, occasionally pulling it back in so he can worry his bottom lip between his teeth. His long fingers move quickly and expertly, distracting Sam enough that he hardly notices when he loses the race until he’s broken out of his trance by Bucky’s victorious whoop. He heaves a big, put-out sigh and pulls his shirt up over his head, taking care to arch and stretch as he does it. He watches Bucky’s eyes widen and darken and feels satisfied in this small revenge. 

He’s almost unprepared for Bucky to lean forward, capturing one dark nipple between his distracting lips and giving a slow, teasing lick. He’ll deny the keening noise that escapes his mouth to his dying day and yanks Bucky’s head back in retaliation. He endeavors to remind him who’s actually in control, lowering his lips to Bucky’s, looking every bit like a predator ready to devour his prey. 

When Bucky is writhing beneath him, pushing his hips against Sam’s grip seeking friction, Sam pulls back and presses a final chaste kiss to swollen lips. 

“You’re not done already are you Bucky-bear?”

Bucky scowls, half at Sam stopping and half at the obnoxious nickname, but picks up his controller and quickly chooses a new map. Three chirping tones signal the beginning of the race and they’re off again, this time racing as rolling Droideka’s through the halls of an unfinished Death Star. They dodge falling tools from working droids and shove at each other trying to gain the upper hand. 

Sam tosses a wrench behind him and Bucky swears in a language that might be Russian. For a moment Sam freezes minutely, but his body relaxes and he smiles internally, thankful that Bucky has recovered so much that he can bring pieces of his past into this room without a second thought. He’s almost lost in thought again when Bucky flies past him cheering as though he might win again. Another skillshot has him spinning and slowing and Sam zooms past him on the screen, crossing the finish line with a victory cry of his own. Bucky pouts but removes his shirt with a quickness that has Sam smirking. 

This time it’s Sam who captures one dusky pink nipple in his mouth, rolling the other between fingers that alternate between rolling between the pads and tweaking with the tips. He pulls off of the right side with a wet pop and basks in Bucky’s obscene moan before lowering himself to the the other neglected peak. 

Bucky grasps desperately at his hips, hands fumbling with Sam’s belt and zipper until he finally loosens them and forces Sam’s jeans down his thighs. Sam is attacking his neck with his teeth, hard enough to create faint red marks that will blossom into darker shades by morning, and using much more graceful fingers to make short work of Bucky’s own, much simpler sweatpants. They groan in unison when their lengths grind together, separated only by the thin but frustratingly present fabric of their boxers. 

“Bedroom,” Bucky manages to rasp out as Sam takes him in hand. He thinks for a moment that Sam will ignore him and take him here on the carpet, relishing in the carpet burn that will add to the array of marks on Bucky’s skin for days to come, but Sam gives one final squeeze and stands. 

He offers one hand to his out of breath lover and grins when metal meets flesh once more.

**Author's Note:**

> I surely did make up a Star Wars/Mario Kart crossover for this purpose. I don't know if it actually exists but if it doesn't, it should.


End file.
